Karaka had always been the type to let others know where she was going and when it would be so. She and Yanni shared much together, and Yanni came to appreciate Karaka not only as a chef but as one of her closest friends. Many nights and events were bookmarked in Yanni’s mind, and she so badly wanted to reminisce. However, she couldn’t afford a lapse in judgment, and so she abstained.
Yanni narrowed her gaze on a small bracelet on Karaka’s desk. It was a memento from her late mother, given away on her deathbed. From what Yanni was told, it was a gift from one of the San Island men long before Cailu Raloquen’s time. Yanni picked up the bracelet, handling it as if the slightest breeze would snap it apart. Beads of black and white were held together by strong twine which time had managed to fray just slightly. Minor spots and specks of dirt matted the braiding, but it was otherwise in good condition, considering its age.
Strange that she would leave without it.
In fact, much of the room was strange, for that matter. A thin layer of dust covered much of the room’s make, most notably the harder surfaces, such as the desk and table. The wall was still clean. Setting the bracelet down, she approached one side of the wall, brushing her pointer finger down a gap where two painted wall scrolls hung. She rubbed the finger against her thumb, frowning when not a single hint of dirt or dust came off.
How odd. There should be something.
She continued to comb the room with her gaze. She memorized the bracelet, the desk, how the light hit the floorboards, and every single object and piece of furniture.
She stopped when her eyes met the flowerpot in the corner closest to the door. The white dolly—a type of flower with white petals shaped like tiny arms and legs, pink tips, and beautiful golden anthers—was gone. Yanni plucked the last bookmark she held of this room—one month ago—and replayed the memory in her mind’s eye.
Yes. The flower was in full bloom. Healthy, watered, brimming with life. The flowerpot was there…
The flowerpot had been moved. Unlikely to be important, but the flowerpot had made a distinct groove in the floor where it had resided for so long. A groove that was easily seen. Karaka had made a point of replacing the floorboards in her room due to the building’s age, and the flowerpot had served as an everlasting reminder of the condensation and rot that had built up over time from repeated watering. Yanni had suggested she relocate the pot into another room if she was concerned about more water damage, but Karaka had shaken her head and emphasized that the flower was a great distraction in case she had company over.
And now that flower was gone. The soil in the flowerpot was a perfectly shaped mound of dirt—which was unusual. Karaka, as dedicated as she was to maintaining a clean and enjoyable environment for her patrons, was a pragmatic woman. So long as the flower itself was presentable, the shape of the mound did not matter.
But the pot appears to have not been tampered with.
A gentle scratching sound suddenly caught her attention. Yanni frowned and murmured, “[Combat Mode].” Red and black traditional San Island armor cupped the top half of her left arm. As she steadily moved closer, the plates of her armor shifted like the underbelly of a snake. A demonic visage shaped the metal over her shoulder and was tied snugly by a strap around her upper arm. Slowly, she placed her right hand on the longer of the two swords that had appeared around her sash, ready to draw the katana at a moment’s notice.
As Yanni neared the sound, the scratching warped into a slither, and as she came close, she saw it. A tendril black as the night was tucked away in the corner, hiding behind the flowerpot. White flowers barely half the size of a Bell coin curled and uncurled like fingers on a hand. They trembled and vibrated.
The sight of the thing chilled her to her core. As part of her mandatory training, Yanni had learned much about gardening from both Mistress Emberlynn and those she employed. During that time, she had memorized all there was to know about San Island’s flora. She could claim, with absolute certainty, that this plant was not native to San Island.
A shriek echoed throughout the hall behind her. Yanni spun on her heel and dashed back into the main room to see Destiny reeling back from the wall.
“[Combat Mode]!” Tristan cried. A long brown overcoat with a red scarf dressed the young man in an instant as he moved forward to bar Destiny with his gloved arm. A hiss followed from the wall, and as Yanni turned to look, she saw another tendril of black descend against the wall until it disappeared.
Yanni rushed to Tristan’s side when Ravyn and Lara appeared behind her shortly after. Ravyn’s feathery familiar had its wings spread wide and its beak held low.
Yanni narrowed in on where she’d seen the tendril move. She bookmarked the memory, steadied her breathing, and gripped the handle of her sword, confident that the vine would appear again. Her nerves relaxed, her senses honed, and any semblance of nervousness and anxiety vacated from her body at the thought of the thrill of combat.
“Are you okay?” Tristan asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Destiny breathed.
Ravyn, Destiny, and Lara said, “[Combat Mode],” and they all waited in silence for more to happen.
“We will get nowhere like this,” Yanni said as she marched toward the wall. Tristan grabbed her by the bend of her elbow, and she did not look back. Even a moment’s hesitation could spell disaster. “Release me, Tristan.”
“Hang on, we don’t know what’s back there,” Tristan hissed. “I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
Yanni shook her head. “I will not place myself at unnecessary risk.” She shook his grasp away and neared, readying into [Iai Stance]—a [Myrmidon] stance that significantly increased the power and speed of a draw cut. Leaning forward, she turned her ears to the wall. The hissing noise grew louder. She allowed her ears to guide her, and before she could visually acknowledge what was about to happen, she drew her sword and slashed downward in a single, swift motion. A ringing screech filled the air, and a small portion of [Energy] was restored to her—the confirmation she had performed the technique to perfection.
The lithe tentacle fell on top of the table closest to the wall, wriggling and shriveling up. Unlike the one earlier, this one was larger, thicker. The remainder of the tentacle retreated behind the table, and as it did, Yanni kicked the table over so it fell to her left. What remained of the tendril slithered into the floor and Yanni hissed through her teeth.
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“What the fuck was that? Squaaaawk!” Ravyn’s bird cried.
“A sign to quit as a horticulturist,” Ravyn said.
Yanni hesitated to sheathe her sword in the event that another dangerous foe was still close by, but the Enchantment on her sword was at its strongest just before it was unleashed from its scabbard. Apprehension in her movement, she held the sword perpendicular to her gaze and brushed her first two fingers against the flat, just as Mistress Emberlynn had instructed her. The sword glowed with a violet light, then the blood was no more. She carefully sheathed the katana, grateful that nothing else attacked them, then turned to face Ravyn.
“We must pursue it,” Yanni said, “before it can be allowed to hurt anyone.”
“Anyone else, you mean,” Ravyn said. “It’s pretty damn evident this thing hurt Karaka.”
“Are you alright, Destiny?” Tristan asked as he helped her to her feet.
Destiny offered a short nod. “Yes, I think so. It didn’t cut me or anything like that.” Her gaze traveled to the dismembered tendril on the floor. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Lara shook her head. “Neither have I.”
Yanni stared at the tentacle for some time. There was an identical one in Karaka’s room, and she began to wonder if more of these plants might be around the city. “I worry for the other citizens of Zhuli.”
“So do I,” Ravyn said.
“We should ask around the city and see if anyone else has seen them,” Lara said. “Wind thinks there’s more going on here than—how did you put it? Ah. Yes. Than meets the eye.”
“I agree,” Tristan said. “We should get out of here in the meantime.”
“Let us dismantle the one I saw in Karaka’s room, first,” Yanni said as she started back to her friend’s room. She heard the agreeing voices of Tristan and Ravyn behind her, but when she returned to the room, she was alarmed to find that the plant was gone. “What?” She carefully extracted the shorter blade—a wakizashi—from its scabbard and used it to tip over the jar. It fell to its side, pouring the dirt onto the floor, but the tendrils that had been hiding behind it were nowhere to be seen.
“Did you find it?” Destiny asked from behind her.
“No. It is not here.” Yanni sheathed the short sword and looked over her shoulder to see Tristan and Destiny standing there. “I am worried.”
“We don’t know that anything’s happened,” Destiny said, though her tone said she didn’t believe it, “so we’ll keep looking. It shriveled and screeched when I cut it. Are the tendrils possibly connected?”
“Like a tree?” Lara asked.
“Yes, like a tree. Very good,” Ravyn said, rolling her eyes.
Perhaps what Destiny said was true, and the tendrils were part of a greater mass. That did not account for why these tendrils were here to begin with, however. Yanni thought for a time but eventually shook her head, deciding that Tristan’s course of action was the correct one.
“I hope we find your friend soon,” Lara said. She gaped and reeled her head back. “Wind! Don’t say things like that!”
“Let us leave,” Yanni said, glancing at the bracelet before leaving behind them. “There is nothing more we can do here.”
After Destiny was done taking a sample of the shriveled plant, Yanni followed her and the others out of the shop.
“Where should we start?” Lara asked, yawning.
Does she not understand how dire this situation is?
“Anywhere. Everywhere,” Ravyn said, crossing her arms. “We can’t just assume this creepy thing works like any other flower. We found it attached to the walls and floorboards. Should assume it can go anywhere it wants.”
“I agree,” Destiny said, nodding. Yanni found her tone odd. Until now, Destiny appeared to be the sensitive type. Agreed easily, buckled under heavy loads of stress, apologized profusely. Now, however, she carried an oddly confident tone to her voice. Yanni bookmarked the event. “Yanni, may I ask where a shop that sells flowers and other flora might be?”
Yanni blinked, quickly plucking a memory from her mind. “Yes.” She pointed up the incline three blocks down. “Zestra owns a flower shop this way.”
Destiny nodded and walked beside her, smiling. Yanni found this interesting.
Once they arrived at the shop, Yanni slid the santo door to the side, and a cheerful, “Welcome in!” rang against the walls. The entrance was made of wood, descending to a path of cobblestone and dirt. Plants were potted in varying patterns, positioned against the walls, hanging from the ceiling, and adorning the shelves and desks nearby.
Moments later, a woman with large arms and red hair tied back into twin tails approached, patting her gloved hands free of dirt. Zestra stood a head taller than any one of them, and her dark green eyes bore into the members of Yanni’s group. “Oh, Yanni! Haven’t seen you in a while!”
Yanni bowed at the neck. “It is good to see you, Zestra.”
She narrowed her gaze, then looked at the others. “Who’re your friends?”
“You may remember Ravyn. Tristan is here on assistance from Shi Island with his Party of Destiny and Lara,” Yanni introduced them quickly. “We come with a concern.”
Tristan moved to step forward, but Destiny barred him gently and approached with a smile. “We had contact with a strange plant. We were hoping you might be able to tell us about it.”
“Strange plant?” Zestra frowned.
Destiny nodded. Something had fundamentally changed in her, and Yanni watched carefully. “It has black, thin vines, produces white flowers with a yellow stigma.” She blinked, then she pointed at a collection of white dollies. They were in smaller flowerpots that the one Karaka had in her room and hadn’t yet bloomed. “Are those white dollies?”
Zestra glanced at them. “They sure are! Not even a week old! Should bloom in a couple of days.” She crossed her arms. “But those aren’t what you’re looking for, are they?”
“No, but they looked similar,” Destiny said, pinching her chin. “Have you heard or seen anything like that growing out of place as of late? Like a weed that creeps indoors?”
“Hm.” Zestra nodded. “Heard of it, yeah. Seen it myself, no.”
“You haven’t taken a look at them?” Tristan asked, frowning.
“Not for lack of trying,” Zestra shrugged. She scratched the top of her head and sniffed. “Every time I go over to someone’s place to have a look at it, they’re not home.”
Yanni’s ears perked up. “Hold. Have you reported this to the guard?”
“Didn’t see a reason to. People aren’t always home. Didn’t hear any screaming.”
“Zestra. I ask that you think long and hard,” Yanni said, stepping forward. “How many times have you heard of this plant?”
Zestra blinked. “Twice? Maybe three times?”
“Peculiar, but not enough that most people would be concerned,” Tristan said as if he were saying it to himself. “Circumstantial.”
“You should’ve reported it,” Ravyn snapped. “Who knows where they might be now?”
“Whoa, whoa,” Zestra said, gesturing with her hands. “Slow down. Where they ‘might’ be? What are you talking about?”
“Mou ii, what does it matter now? Give us the names, and we’ll check it out ourselves.”
“What are you planning on doing? Breaking in?”
Ravyn smirked. “I would never.”
“Key to the castle, key to the castle, squaaawwwk!” the bird bellowed loudly enough that Yanni’s ears bent forward.
“We will speak with the guard,” Yanni said, rubbing the side of her head. “We must find these women immediately.”
“What are you expecting to find?” Zestra asked.
Yanni drew a deep breath and averted her gaze. “Corpses.”
image [https://i.imgur.com/oh2SwI6.png]